


You Belong To Me

by umakoo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: Gladio returns from his solo quest with a giant new scar on his chest. Noctis doesn't react well to it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was annoyed with the way the game ignored the fact that Gladio shows up from his mystery quest with a massive scar on his chest and no one batted an eye at it, plus he had apparently made a full recovery from what looked to be a near-death experience in a handful of days. So here is my personal take on his return :) Spoilers for chapter 7 and the rumors about Gladio's DLC.
> 
> Thank you to Cleo for a quick beta read!

Gladio can barely see through the visor in his helmet as he follows Noctis out of the reactor. His breaths puff against the glass, and the scar on his chest throbs every time his feet hit the catwalk.

 

It was nothing, just a simple cleanup job, but the fight against the horde of goblins has left Gladio more winded than he realized, and he has to grab onto the railing as he struggles to catch his breath.

 

“You coming?” Noctis calls over his shoulder when he notices Gladio’s falling behind.

 

“Right behind you…”

 

Gladio ignores the ache in his chest and pushes on even as a small voice in his head (that sounds suspiciously like Cor’s) reminds him that he isn’t ready to be back on the field. He scoffs and jogs to catch up with Noct; if it were up to the Marshal, Gladio would still be stuck in a bed and wrapped in bandages like a damn mummy.

 

 

*

 

 

There’s a woman waiting for them on the bridge, and Noctis gives her a thumbs up to let her know the job’s been taken care of. They’re finally out of the reactor, but Gladio feels lightheaded, the air inside his helmet thick and warm. He fumbles for the lock on the seam, but the damn thing is stuck, and even the visor refuses to come up. He’s always hated small, enclosed spaces and the helmet is making him claustrophobic, the sound of his own heartbeats growing louder in his ears.

 

He blinks when he feels a pair of gloved hands on his shoulder. There’s a click and a quiet hiss as the lock on his helmet slides open. Noctis removes it from Gladio’s head and gives his shoulder a light pat.

 

“You ok there, Big Guy?” he asks, equally out of breath, his dark hair plastered to his cheeks like spilled ink.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little winded.”

 

Gladio throws his head back and fills his lungs with fresh night air, no less humid, but better than the recycled stuff he was breathing in the thermal suit.

 

He turns his eyes on Noct. “You knew it was me the whole time, didn’t you?” The lack of surprise at his return is a little disappointing.

 

“Yep.” The arch of Noctis’ brow is unimpressed, and his cheek dimples with a lopsided smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. “There aren’t that many greatsword-wielding giants in these parts, you know.”

 

Gladio rolls his eyes at Noctis and bumps his fist against the softly padded sleeve of his thermal suit. “Nice to see you too, Prince Smartass.” He pulls his gloves off and rubs at his face. “So. You miss me?”

 

Noctis waves his hand dismissively. “Nah… Barely even noticed you were gone.” He tries to keep a straight face, but Gladio can see Noctis’ mouth quirk up. “Even the car got roomier.”

 

“Well, in that case,” Gladio grins, “I guess you won’t mind if I take off for a few more-”

 

“No way,” Noctis interrupts, the playful edge in his voice disappearing. He gives the sleeve of Gladio’s thermal suit a yank to pull him closer. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight again… Well, think again.”

 

Gladio’s gaze turns soft at the possessive note in Noctis’ voice and he inches closer, hoping to maybe steal a quick kiss before the others join them. Noctis seems to share his desire, that is, until his gaze lands on the pink gash on Gladio’s forehead.

 

Noctis jerks back and presses his gloved hand against the newly acquired scar. “What’s that?”

 

Gladio takes a hold of Noctis’ wrist to push his curious fingers away. “It’s nothing.”

 

“Gladio... " Noctis shoots him a stubborn scowl and reaches out with his other hand, pushing into Gladio’s personal space. “What the hell kind of mission were you on?”

 

Gladio growls at the fussing, and it turns into a pained grunt when Noctis’ forearm brushes against his chest by accident.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ”

 

“Gladio!” Noctis stares at his chest with startled eyes. “Have you been injured?” He reaches for the zipper of Gladio’s thermal suit, but Gladio swats his hand away.

 

“I told you, it’s nothing. Just… leave it.”

 

“Fine. I will,” Noctis huffs. He yanks his gloves off, and Gladio thinks he’s going to get slapped with one, but Noctis doesn’t even look at him as he heads toward the security gate.

 

Gladio stares at his retreating back and struggles to understand how they went from almost kissing to Noctis storming off on him like the brat he used to be. It’s not like Gladio hasn’t been injured before. His body is a patchwork of scars, and Noctis has seen each and every one of them, knows where they came from.

 

“ _Is that Gladio?_ ” Prompto hollers from the gate, waving his arms at them. “I can’t believe you’re finally back, dude!”

 

“Well, at least someone is surprised to see me,” Gladio mutters, shooting Noctis a peeved look as they join Prompto and Ignis.

 

Noctis returns his glare, and it’s clear the issue between them is far from settled.

 

“It appears the identity of our mysterious hunter has been revealed,” Ignis remarks, his sharp gaze zeroing in on the scar on Gladio’s forehead.

 

Gladio runs his fingers through his hair where it’s plastered to his neck. “Yeah, well, couldn’t let his Highness here have all the fun.”

 

“It’s good to see you, man,” Prompto grins. He gives Gladio’s chest a bump with his fist, and Gladio flinches at the contact. “Sorry, sorry,” Prompto says, eyes apologetic. “Didn’t realize you were that bruised. You run into some big nasties inside?”

 

“No, we didn’t,” comes Noctis’ clipped reply. “Just some goblins.”

 

He continues to glare at Gladio as they peel off the uncomfortable thermal suits. They hand their gear to one of the similarly dressed women at the gate, and Noct gives her a quick report.

 

“Thank you for the help, your highness,” she nods. “Your mythril will be ready by tomorrow.”

 

“I guess we’re hanging here ‘til morning?” Prompto asks, the arch of his blond brows hopeful as he bounces from foot to foot.

 

“Guess so,” Noctis sighs.

 

Prompto pumps his fist in the air. “Soft beds, baby!”

 

“And showers,” Gladio sighs. His clothes are still plastered to his skin, his shirt buttoned up to his neck to hide the damage underneath. He rolls his shoulders and smacks his lips to pry his tongue off the roof of his parched mouth. “I don’t know about you, but I could really go for a cold one right about now. That reactor was like giant a steam room.”

 

“Ditto, dude,” Prompto agrees. “And we gotta tell you all about our trip to Steyliff Grove with Aranea. That place gave me major creeps. There were these ruins and they were, like, underneath a lake and-”

 

“Hold on,” Gladio interrupts. “You went there with Highwind? So, what, we’re working with Nifs now?” He doesn’t bother to hide his disapproval as he shoots both Noctis and Ignis a pointed look over his shoulder.

 

“I fear our options have been rather limited while you were away,” Ignis says, the look he gives Gladio equally sharp.

 

 

*

 

 

The people in Lestallum continue to live their lives in spite of the Imperial presence, and the atmosphere in the city is cheerful. Prompto manages to find them a free table at a small bar at the town square, and he and Ignis head to the stall to place their orders.

 

Gladio tries to ignore the lick of pain that shoots through his torso as he sits himself down, aware of the weight of Noctis’ eyes on him. He has to grab the edge of the table to keep himself from clutching at his abdominals, but it’s obvious Noctis can see right through him.

 

“Gladio… What is this? Did you seriously take a hit at the plant or-”

 

“It’s fine, Noct,” Gladio sighs, hating the worry he hears in Noctis’ voice, how young he looks when Gladio meets his eyes over the table. “I’m just a little out of breath,” he says, trying to sound reassuring through the pain. “There was barely any air in that damn suit.”

 

Prompto and Ignis arrive with their drinks, and Gladio wastes no time wrapping his hand around the cool bottle of root beer. He presses it against his flushed neck, the chill that travels down his spine welcome.

 

“So, we’re joining forces with the Nifs,” he sighs, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a deep drink. He trusts Ignis’ judgement, knows he’ll make the right decision more often than Gladio himself, but that doesn’t mean he has to like them, especially if they include fraternizing with the enemy. “Shoulda been here to talk you out of it...”

 

“Yeah, well, you weren’t here, were you?” Noctis leans his elbows against the table, and Gladio sees his eyes narrow as they drop down to his chest. “Too busy flying solo, weren’t you?”

 

His own temper threatens to flare at the thinly veiled accusation, but Noctis doesn’t give him a chance to defend himself.

 

“Where the hell were you, anyway? You said you wouldn’t be gone for long, but we haven’t seen you or heard from you for almost a month.”

 

Noctis sounds hurt, and Gladio frowns at the new kind of sting in his chest that feels an awful lot like guilt.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to take that long,” Gladio snaps. He hates how defensive he sounds even to his own ears, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting to be given the third degree upon his arrival. “I... was held back.”

 

“You might have called,” Ignis says from Noctis’ side, the disapproval in his voice much more subtle than Noct’s, but no less effective.

 

And tell them what? That he was almost skewered by a demigod and spent several days on the brink of death?

 

“We were kinda worried about you,” Prompto says softly.

 

Gladio drops his eyes on the stain of barbecue sauce on the table, and yeah, that’s definitely guilt rearing up in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry, ok?” he says under his breath, his cheeks flushed from more than just the infernal heat that hangs over the city.

 

Prompto pats his shoulder and even Ignis seems to accept his feeble apology, but Noctis continues to drill a hole through Gladio’s shirt with his eyes.

 

“What?” Gladio snaps. He’s starting to feel like a cornered animal here.

 

“What’s with the sudden modesty?” Noctis asks. “You hiding something?” He springs up from his seat, and the next thing Gladio knows, his shirt is being pulled up.

 

Noctis shoves it all the way to his armpits, and there’s an audible gasp as they all lay their eyes on the large scar that mars Gladio’s entire torso.

 

Gladio glances down. He knows it looks bad,because it _was_ bad. The skin around the freshly formed scar is still an angry shade of pink, and Gladio feels the phantom pain from the blade that gave it to him every time he looks in the mirror.

 

Noctis stares at his chest, a strange, strangled cry pushing past his lips. _“What the...hell?_ ”

 

“I know it looks bad, but I’m alive, ok?” Gladio knows his words sound hollow even as he says them.

 

“‘Bad’?” Prompto echos, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Dude. That thing is _gnarly_.”

 

Gladio ignores him and stares up at Noctis, who’s visibly stunned. He loosens his grip on Gladio’s shirt and stumbles back a few steps, and he looks… _betrayed_.

 

Gladio struggles to swallow through the invisible chokehold around his throat. “Noct, come on, you gave me permission to go.”

 

Noctis’ knuckles go white as he balls his hands into tight fists, and the gentle blue of his irises flashes red when he meets Gladio’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, I did! But you didn’t tell me you were going to get your damn chest cleaved!”

 

Gladio doesn’t have time to protest. His heart jumps to his throat when he sees Noctis dash into the crowd, and he grits his teeth at the flash of pain in his abdomen as he stands up.

 

“Shit…”

 

Gladio shoots Ignis a helpless look.

 

“Go,” Ignis urges. “You can still catch him.”

 

Gladio limps through the crowd, quiet swears spilling from his mouth as he clutches at his side. “He knows goddamn well he’s not supposed to take off on his own…”

 

Gladio breathes out a humorless huff of laughter, remembering all the times he’s seen Noctis do just that, giving him the slip after school to hang out at the mall with Prompto, and storming off from the training hall after a demanding session in a fit of frustration or anger. Often both.

 

He hears the familiar screeching of rubber on asphalt, and Noctis steers the Regalia out of the parking lot just as Gladio reaches the side of the road.

 

“Noct!” Gladio barks. “Don’t you dare drive away on your own!”

 

Gladio’s surprised but relieved as hell when he sees Noctis slow down just long enough for him to climb into the front seat. He’s barely sat his ass down when Noctis jams his foot on the accelerator, and the Regalia burns a black trail on the asphalt as they speed out of the city.

 

Gladio presses his palm against his abs and tries to catch his breath. His entire body aches from the short chase, and ok maybe Cor had a point when he nagged at Gladio to get more rest.

 

He shoots Noctis an angry glare as his temper flares and tips over like a pot of hot coals. “I can’t believe you stormed off like that. You know how dangerous it gets after sundown.” He points at the empty highway that spreads out before them in small increments as the Regalia clears them a path through the darkness with her headlights. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

 

Noctis grips the wheel like a vice, his mouth a sullen line. Gladio feels the wind whip against his face, and the tires screech in the dark as Noctis takes a sharp left. He’s had his license for less than a year, and Gladio knows Noct is a menace behind the wheel at the best of times. The risk of him crashing the Regalia is frighteningly high when he’s this upset.

 

The glow of the city lights in the side-view mirror grows more and more distant as Noctis drives on, the nearest outpost miles away. Cold sweat prickles on Gladio’s forehead and he tries to ignore the hint of panic stirring in his chest. It’s past sundown and there’s no way he'll be able to protect Noct from a proper daemon in his current condition.

 

“Stop the car, right now.”

 

Noctis ignores him and continues to scowl at the windshield.

 

Gladio takes a deep breath and pushes past the anger before he tries again. “Noct,” he says, softer now, and he touches his fingers to Noctis’ thigh. “Pull over, okay?”

 

Noctis blinks and lets out a stuttering sigh, his grip on the wheel loosening.

 

Gladio allows himself to relax against the backrest when Noctis steers the car towards the small parking spot next to a towering transformer tower. He kills the engine, and they sit in a pool of light from the lone lamp above them.

 

There’s a quiet hum from the power lines, but the silence between them feels loaded like a live wire.

 

This isn’t really their thing. Talking and exploring what’s beneath the surface. Noctis has never been good with words, but Gladio’s never held it against him. He learned to read his prince long before the bond between them transcended brotherhood and simple duty, and he knows Noctis is more upset than he is angry.

 

Noctis’s shoulders shake and he slumps forward until his forehead is resting against the wheel. He’s quiet for a long time, and his voice, when he finally speaks, is barely above a whisper. “Where the hell were you?” He lifts his head and shoots Gladio an accusing glare. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna put yourself in that kind of danger?”

 

The mission with Cor and the Hunters is confidential, and even if it wasn’t, Gladio wouldn’t want to share it with Noctis, who has plenty enough on his plate. There’s no way Gladio is going to add to that with his own failures.

 

“I never should have let you go…” Noctis slides down in his seat, his face twisting with guilt. “It’s all my fault.”

 

Gladio feels his heart break at Noctis’ words. “Noct… Don’t say that.” He reaches out with a tentative hand, ready to pull back, but Noctis allows him to rest it on his shoulder. “You had nothing to do with it. It was all me. _I_ was the one who failed you.”

 

The memory of Ravus subjugating him like a weak mutt in front of his prince, it burns like bile in Gladio’s throat. “If I can’t protect you...” Gladio swallows and his throat clicks loudly in the silence that hangs between them. “Noct, it’s why I’m here. It’s what I am.”

 

“Yeah?” Noctis slaps Gladio’s hand away and spins around in his seat to face him. “And how the hell are you going to protect me if you’re dead!?”

 

The words hit Gladio almost like a physical blow, and he feels helpless when he spots the angry tears that have gathered in Noctis’ eyes.

 

“Don’t you understand that I can’t do any of this without you?” Noctis bites his lip and sinks his nails into the smooth leather of the seat, but the anger in him seems to deflate, replaced by open desperation. He reaches over and twists Gladio’s shirt in his hands. “You can’t leave me.” He tugs on Gladio’s sleeve. “You’re my Shield. _Mine_.”

 

The tears in his eyes threaten to spill down his cheeks, but Noctis’ voice is possessive, commanding; it’s the voice of the King he’s meant to be.

 

Gladio clasps Nocts’ face with both hands and gives a fierce nod. “ _I am_.” He strokes his thumb over the line of Noctis’ downturned mouth and Noctis exhales a stuttering breath, leans into the touch. His hair is still matted with sweat and Gladio brushes it aside, smiling when it sticks up in a spiky tuft.

 

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Noctis onto his lap.

 

Noctis climbs out of his seat, settling over Gladio’s thighs. He looks exhausted and a little shaken, and the line of his mouth remains tight as he reaches for the buttons on Gladio’s shirt.

 

Gladio stays still and allows Noctis to study the damage. He feels a slight pressure, just a memory of a touch, when Noctis traces his fingers over the raised strip of skin where it runs across Gladio’s chest, disappearing into the dip of his hips, the nerves damaged beyond repair.

 

Noctis lets out a quiet sigh. He looks up and touches his fingers to the scar above Gladio’s brows. “You’re not gonna tell me how you got these, are you?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Gladio says. He brushes his knuckles against Noctis’s cheek and leans in to plant a soft kiss to his hairline. “All you need to know is that the other guy looks even worse.”

 

Noctis looks unhappy, but he leans in to press his brow against Gladio’s in a show of affection and forgiveness.

 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” Noctis murmurs. He strokes his nails through the shorn hair on Gladio’s temples and yanks him close to claim his mouth in a kiss. It’s possessive and a little desperate, and it reminds Gladio of the kisses they used to steal from each other when the thing between them was still new and tentative; hurried little makeout sessions in Noctis’ old chambers between homework and dinner with the King.

 

Those days feel like a distant dream now, and they both know things are going to change, but Gladio isn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

 

He parts his lips and lets Noctis take and give in equal measure as he begins to nip and mouth at the stubbled line of his jaw. Noctis rocks down against Gladio’s thigh, careful not to put any weight on his chest, but Gladio can tell his control is unraveling fast.

 

 

“Noct…” Gladio glances at the shadows outside of the pool of light. The nights beyond the Wall are dark and full of unseen dangers. It’s nothing like back home in Insomnia where the city lights repel even the deepest of shadows. Noctis pants against his mouth, already hard against Gladio’s thigh. Desire ignites deep in his belly and Gladio feels himself stir, but it’ll be awhile before he can go beyond simple kissing. “Noct. We should head back to the city.”

 

“I need this,” Noctis protests, grinding down at a faster pace. “Please,” he gasps, his breath warm against Gladio’s neck. “Give me this.”

 

Gladio hasn’t seen Noctis this desperate since the night before they set out from Insomnia. Noct had put on his usual mask of flippant indifference when they’d had their final audience with the King, but Gladio remembers the way Noctis had clung to him the night before their departure, refusing to let Gladio leave his bed even with Ignis and Prompto sleeping in the next room.

 

“Alright,” Gladio says softly, settling his hands on Noctis’ hips. “Alright.” He begins to lift his thigh, matching Noctis’ desperate pace as he grinds down, his quiet moans leaving Gladio a little breathless.

 

Speculations about Noctis' love life used to be a popular topic in the tabloids until his engagement with Luna, and Gladio has made sure that what they have between them stays private. He suspects both Ignis and Prompto must have some hunch, but Gladio has kept his hands to himself in their shared quarters, and the sight of Noctis coming undone in his arms after so long awakens a strange sense of melancholia in him. He tightens his hold on Noctis’ hips and leans in for a kiss, hopes it won’t be the last one.

 

“I’m- I’m close,” Noctis gasps against his lips.

 

“Yeah?” Gladio lifts his thigh and presses against the hard line of Noctis’ cock. “Go on, you can let go.”

 

Noctis cries out and Gladio feels him shudder and go still in his lap as he spills in his pants. He buries his face in Gladio’s neck, and Gladio plants a kiss to the patch of pale skin at the nape of his neck.

 

“ _Gladio_ ,” Noctis whines, his hands clutched around the long strands of Gladio’s hair.

 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Gladio traces his fingers along Noctis’ spine and gives a soft pat to his ass. “Come on, we better head back. I bet Specs and Prompto are worried as hell.”

 

They switch seats and Gladio settles behind the wheel, allowing Noctis to pull himself together as he turns the car around and drives them back. He looks away from the road when he feels Noctis’ hand settle on his thigh.

 

“I’m sorry I drove off like that,” Noctis says, chewing on his lip. “And just so you know, I did miss you. A lot.”

 

Gladio takes his hand off the gearstick and wraps it around Noctis’ fingers, gives them a gentle squeeze. “I know,” he smiles. “I missed you too.”

 

***

 


End file.
